


A Day With Papa

by PrinceOfHell00



Series: Two Winchesters and a Baby [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Attempt at Humor, Bedtime Stories, Bibs, Caring Dean Winchester, Comforting Dean Winchester, Cooking, Crying, Crying Jack Kline, Cute Jack Kline, Dean Winchester is a Good Cook, Dean's a fantastic papa, Diapers, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Gen, Little!Jack, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifiers, Papa!Dean, Romantic Fluff, Separation Anxiety, Sick Sam Winchester, Stuffed Toys, Thumb-sucking, Worried Dean Winchester, highchairs, screw dabb for trying to say otherwise, sippy cups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-09-24 15:20:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20360704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceOfHell00/pseuds/PrinceOfHell00
Summary: Dean and Jack spend the day alone together while Sam is out. Cute and precious moments ensue.





	1. A Bump in the Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> FINALLY back with the next installment of the Winchester brothers' and their precious baby boy. As you can see this is gonna be a three parter, and my first ever time doing a chaptered story, so bear with me on updates lol. Enjoy!
> 
> Jack's headspace: 2yrs

"You sure you don't want me to tag along?" Dean asked, arms crossed and leaning against the bunker's staircase with a worried expression.

Sam sighed and turned away from the shopping list he was writing to look at the older Winchester. "Dean, for the thousandth time, I'll be fine." He turned back and scribbled a couple more things down, then stood up from the mapping table and shoved the list in his pocket. Sam muffled a cough in the crook of his elbow--wincing slightly as he cleared his throat of the disgusting phlegm that had been coating it for the past couple of days--before walking over to Dean. "It's just a doctor's appointment and a couple of errands, no biggie."

"If you give me the list I can go get everything now and you can just come straight back home after."

"That's really sweet of you, dude, but I promise you I can handle it all just fine on my own. Besides, one of us has to be here just in case Jack ages down. You know how easy it is for him to drop after a long hunt."

"Which is why I can easily give Rowena a call and ask her to come watch over him until one of us gets back."

"Yeaaaah, that's not gonna happen anytime soon."

Dean gave the younger Winchester a confused look. "What, why not? She's done it before. It's not like she's gonna try an' betray us like before. Well, at least I hope not."

"No, no, I know that. What I mean is, she's literally not gonna be able to come watch or visit Jack for at least another week. Don't you remember? She went back to Scotland at the start of summer to search for some rare flower that only blooms during that time for a new spell she's creating."

"Crap... yeah, I completely forgot." Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Sam stepped closer, placing a hand on the nape of the older man's neck, gripping him in a gentle hold. "Dean, sweetheart, listen to me; I know you're worried, but I'm gonna be _fine_, okay? I most likely just caught whatever it was that one woman we interviewed had, but I'm more than positive it's nothing too serious. So can you promise me to at least try not to worry so much, please? I _will_ be okay, Dean."

Dean leaned into the touch, letting his brother's words sink in and calm him.

"You're right, you're right. It's kinda in my job description to worry about you, though." Dean removed Sam's hand away from his neck and brought it up to his lips, giving his brother's knuckles and palm each a gentle kiss. "But, I promise I'll try my best not to worry _as _much."

Sam smiled and gave a slight chuckle. "Thank you, that's all I ask."

The younger Winchester breathed a sigh, a look of confliction overcoming his handsome face.

"I really wish I could kiss you right now. Damn sickness."

Without a word, Dean cupped Sam's face between his hands and pulled him into a slow, passionate kiss.

"Sickness be damned, nothing's ever gonna stop me from kissing you," Dean said after pulling away from his now dazed and flushed little brother; the look making the older smirk in accomplishment.

Sam cleared his throat and took a few steps back, breathing a laugh. "I don't know if you'll be saying that when you end up catching whatever it is I have."

Dean shrugged and smiled wide. "Eh, totally worth it, in my opinion."

"Whatever you say, dear." The younger man glanced down at his watch. "I better get going now, I don't want to get caught up in the lunch rush and be late. Oh, real quick though, please wake Jack at twelve-thirty if he isn't up by then. I know we got back late last night, but I don't want his sleeping schedule to take anymore hits."

"No worries, babe, will do."

"Ironic choice of words there, dear."

"Oh shut it, bitch."

"Love you too, jerk. I'll see you later."

With that, and one last peck on the lips, Dean watched as his brother bounded up the stairs and out through the heavy, metal door.

Shifting from foot-to-foot, Dean pondered on what to do with the little time he had to himself. Maybe he could sit down with a beer and watch an episode of 'The Flash' on Netflix, he never got the chance to watch the last season when it was premiering live, so it would be a good opportunity to at least watch the first episode now. Or, he guessed he could always clean the guns and hatchets they'd used these past couple hunts; they definitely needed it, especially before him and Sam found another one. Yeah, the former option would probably be the responsible choice to go with. But on the other hand...

"Ah, screw it."

\\\\\\\

One beer, two small bags of chips and one episode of 'The Flash' later, Dean felt the most relaxed than he had in the past week. That last hunt really took it out of him, actually, it took a lot out of all three of them. Dean still couldn't get over how it took them an entire _week _just to kill a group of vamps, when usually it would only take two or three days (at most) to locate their nest and kill them. These vamps on the other hand weren't like others they've hunted before (if Dean was being honest, they were actually a helluva lot smarter than previous vamp cases); instead of staying in one town to feed like most others do, after killing and drinking their fill they would immediately leave and move on to an entirely new town, making sure it wasn't too close to the last one they ravaged. It took a full four days to finally figure out their (what Dean liked to call) "_travel and dine_" pattern, then the next two to arrive ahead of their schedule and finally kill them, and the last to finally (_finally_) get back home. To say they were exhausted, was an understatement. The older Winchester hoped with every fiber of his being that they didn't get another case like that for the next decade.

Speaking of exhaustion, Dean was beginning to feel it seep back into his body with vengeance for getting up so early after only getting six hours of sleep (even though he's gotten much less before and managed to get by just fine, thank you very much, body). If he continued laying in bed he knew he wouldn't be able to keep his eyes open for much longer, so with a groan, he lifted himself up and off the heavenly mattress, stretching once he got his balance. "Damn, m'gettin' old," he mumbled around a yawn. A part of him (a really big part of him) wanted to just throw himself back on the bed and let sleep take him away for the rest of the day, but doing that would _definitely_ result in him being put in the dog house for the foreseeable future. So yeah, not gonna happen.

The older Winchester reached into his jeans' pocket and pulled out his phone, checking the time, he saw that it was already 12:24pm. It looked like he might have to wake the kid up, after all.

_Thump! Bang!_

A wailing cry echoed throughout the hallway.

Or not.

"Shit," Dean swore as he sprinted down the hall towards Jack's room.

The hunter skid to a stop in front of the Nephilim's door and flinged it open. His eyes immediately landed on the crying boy's form, who was on the floor beside his bed clutching the back of his head. He quickly rushed forward, kneeling down beside his–very much regressed–kid.

"It's alright, baby, it's alright. I'm here, papa's here."

As soon as his caregiver was within his reach, Jack lunged forward and into Dean's arms, gripping onto the man's flannel tightly. "Papa!" He exclaimed, pressing his face into Dean's neck.

"You're okay now, you're okay." Dean ran a comforting hand up and down the boy's back. Thankfully, the little Nephilim's tears were quickly coming to a stop now that he was in the older Winchester's arms.

"Hurts, papa," Jack said with a sniffle, pointing at the back of his head.

"Poor baby," Dean cooed sympathetically. "Can you turn around so papa can take a look?"

Jack nodded, pulling himself away from his caregiver's neck. He turned around and sat crossed legged in front of Dean, a few residue sniffles escaping him every so often as he waited patiently for his caregiver to inspect his head.

Dean carefully parted the boy's thick, golden locks from the area where the pain was coming from. When he didn't see any blood or visible injury on the kid's head, Dean gave an internal sigh of relief. As gently as he could, he starting to feel around the area for any bumps. Sure enough, there was in fact a small bump on his poor boy's head.

"Owwww, it hurts, papa!" The little Nephilim whined, his breathe hitching slightly.

"I know, baby boy, I'm sorry. Papa's being as gentle as possible," The older Winchester soothed, gently smoothing the boy's hair back down. "Okay, all done, baby."

With that, Jack turned himself back around to face Dean.

"Do I gots a booboo, papa?" Jack asked, sticking a thumb in his month.

Dean nodded and said, "Yes, baby, but nothing too bad. We'll just have to be very careful with that part of your noggin for a bit, especially during bath time," he explained.

"Uh-huh, 'ery care'ul," Jack slurred around his thumb, nodding his head in agreement.

"How 'bout we go get you a paci and changed into some little clothes? Then I can whip us up some lunch and we can watch a movie or something while we eat it. Does that sound good, little man?"

"Mhm!" The little Nephilim nodded enthusiastically, smiling widely around his thumb.

"Awesome! But real quick, sweetheart, can you tell papa how old you are right now?" Just from the kid's actions and vocabulary, Dean could tell that he was either one or two years old, at the moment, but it was still always good for him or Sam to ask instead of just going off pure assumption.

"Uhh-mmm." The little pondered his answer for a moment, then held up two fingers.

"Good boy, thank you," Dean said, wrapping his arms around the little Nephilim's waist and bottom, lifting him onto his hip with ease. Not a day went by where Dean (and Sam) wasn't grateful to Rowena for creating a spell that made it so easy to hold and carry Jack around, like this.

Jack beamed at the praise, wrapping his free arm around his caregiver's neck and nuzzling into him like a kitten.

"Alright, baby boy, let's head to your nursery and get our day started."


	2. Worry no More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Jack have a nice lunch, and Dean finally hears from Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry it's taken me almost three months to update this story, I would've honestly had it out sooner if life hadn't decided to fuck me more than once. To put it short, my grandma passed away back in August so grief and depression have been circling me like vultures, I got sick with a cold for about a week last month, then towards the end of last month after said cold I got sick with some sort of horrendous stomach bug that I'm just barely coming out of. So yeah, life really hasn't been the greatest for me. But, I am going to do everything in my power to get the final chapter of this fic out later this month, I promise. Anyway, hopefully it was worth the wait, enjoy.
> 
> **Edited< I had to get rid of a paragraph because the fic after this would have been in consisted af otherwise, don't worry tho I promise it's not noticeable whatsoever lol.

Once Dean got Jack changed into a diaper and a pair of pastel, galaxy shortalls with a matching pastel blue shirt, he walked back over to the nursery's dresser and picked out two pacifiers from the colorful wooden box that sat on top.

"Alright, baby boy, which one?" Dean asked, holding up the two soothers.

"Tha' one," Jack replied, pointing to the pink pacifier in Dean's left hand.

"You got it, baby." Dean smiled, putting the lime green and white pacifier back in the box before walking back to the changing table where Jack sat.

He gently removed the boy's thumb, replacing it with the pacifier.

"There you are, baby. Bet that feels much better, huh?"

"Mhm." Jack nodded in agreement, pacifier already bobbing rhythmically between his lips.

"Okay, baby boy, let's head to the kitchen for some lunch."

"Wai'! Don' 'orget Spi'ee an' Win'es'er, papa."

"Whoops, how silly of me. How could I forget about Spikey and Winchester? Don't worry, sweetheart, papa will grab them."

After retrieving the stuffed hedgehog and bear from the crib, Dean handed them over to their eager awaiting owner's arms, then hoisted the little Nephilim into his own arms and began to make the short journey to the kitchen.

\\\\\\\

Dean set Jack down into his highchair. Once he made sure the kid was correctly secured in the chair, he turned it around to face the kitchen so the little boy could see Dean while he cooked.

"So, what would you like for lunch, kiddo?"

"Ummm... mac an' 'eese, p'ease!"

Dean chuckled and said, "You got it, kiddo."

The older Winchester grabbed a pot from the cabinet and filled it with water, then placed it on the stove to begin boiling. He went into the pantry and pulled out a box of Scooby-Doo shaped macaroni, placing it down on the counter until it was time to pour it in the pot of water. It didn't take long for the water to begin to bubble, signaling it was time to add the noodles in. Dean tore open the box, placed the packet of cheese to the side, then poured the macaroni into the boiling pot. He left it be, for just a moment, to grab the butter out of the fridge and set it aside to start warming up to room temperature. When he returned to the stove, he began to leisurely stir the noodles around, watching as they cooked.

"Papa?"

Dean looked over to Jack. "Yeah, bud?"

"W'er's da'ee?"

"Daddy had to go see the doctor, then he's going to run a couple errands before he comes home."

"He gonna be 'kay?" Jack asked with a very noticeable quiver in his voice.

"Don't worry, baby, daddy's going to be just fine. He just has a cough and some icky germs in his throat and chest, but he's gonna be okay, sweetheart."

It may have sounded a little ironic for Dean to be saying these things–considering how much of a (what Sam liked to call him) "mother hen" he acted like earlier–and even though he himself could still feel a sense of worry for his brother's health (and still would continue to until Sam called or texted him about what the doctor said), it wasn't fair for their kid to be worried about either of them, especially right now when he was in his little headspace.

"Doc'er gonna gi'b him 'ucky med'cin t'ge'd be'der?"

Dean chuckled fondly as he carried the pot over to the sink and poured the now cooked noodles into a strainer. "Yup, that's right, baby. The doc will have daddy start taking medicine today, and before we know it he'll be right as rain again."

"Yay!" Jack exclaimed, beginning to babble happily to his stuffed friends. " 'Ou 'ear tha', Spi'ee, Win'es'er? Da'ee's gonna be 'kay, 'cause-'cause papa says the doc'er's gonna gi'b him 'ucky med'cin so's he feels be'der! An' 'nov'er f'ing, papa ol'ways 'akes goo' cares of da'ee so's tha's ol'so's gonna hel'b da'ee feels be'der, too's. So's no needs t'orry abou' him when papa's 'ear."

Dean grinned warmly at the little Nephilim's conversation. Even when little, the kid knew that Dean would always watch out and take good care of Sam (whether it be from a illness or something supernatural related), no matter what.

He watched the boy for a few seconds longer, just taking in his kid's innocent and carefree smiling face as he continued conversing with his stuffed toys about anything and everything. It always made Dean's heart swell with love and joy whenever he got to not only witness Jack be so carefree and happy, but to also participate and be one of the reasons _why_ Jack could be so carefree and happy (and he knew Sam felt the exact same way, too).

"That's right, little man. You never have to worry about anything when papa's here. I'll always make sure you and Sammy are happy and safe," Dean quietly muttered to himself, before going back to preparing lunch.

It wasn't too much longer before Dean had both their lunches' prepared and set up on the library table, his laptop in front of their plates with Netflix already open and waiting.

After setting Jack's stuffed toys on the far end of the table so they wouldn't get dirty from any stray food, Dean placed Jack down on the chair in front of his plastic, light green, divided plate.

"Here you are, kiddo. Some fresh, yummy Scooby-Doo mac n' cheese," Dean said, clipping a bib around the little Nephilim's neck. "I also made you some whole wheat avocado toast, since your daddy wouldn't be very happy with me if I only fed you something he considers a 'non-nutritious' meal." It was an understatement on how _unhappy _Sam would be if he found out Dean only fed Jack greasy, "heart stopping" food while he was out.

"Okay, little man, now what would you like to drink; milk or apple juice?"

Jack popped out his pacifier and placed it beside his plate, before replying, "Apple, p'ease."

"You got it." He ruffled the little Nephilim's hair affectionately. "While I go get our drinks, go ahead an' pick whatever you wanna watch, kiddo."

" 'Kay, papa," Jack replied with a smile, taking a bite of his mac n' cheese.

After filling up Jack's Toy Story sippy cup with apple juice, and grabbing himself a can of Coke, Dean made his way back to the table.

"Here's your juice, kiddo," Dean announced, placing the sippy cup down beside the boy's plate.

"Thanks, papa!" Jack replied, picking up the cup and taking a few sips.

"You're welcome, baby boy." Dean took his seat, setting down his Coke beside his own plate–consisting of two frozen bean and meat burritos and a small portion of macaroni. "So, what did ya pick, bud?" He asked, cracking open the can of sugary goodness.

"Space Buddies!" The little Nephilim excitedly replied, pointing at the laptop screen where five golden retriever puppies (plus a bigger dog in the background who's breed Dean couldn't remember the name of) stood wearing space suits.

"Mmm, this seems interesting. Have you seen it before?"

"Uh-huh, daddy an' me see'd it together. It's really good!"

"I'm excited to see it, then." Dean moved the cursor over to the 'play' button and clicked it.

Aside from Jack's happy commentary and Dean's own musings about the movie, they both ate and enjoyed their lunch in relative silence. Just as the credits began to roll, and after Dean wiped Jack's face and hands clean, the little boy asked him, "Papa, can we gets a puppy?"

The older Winchester stared at the boy like a deer caught in the headlights, his first response being, "Uhhhh..."

\\\\\\\

After about thirteen minutes of Dean trying to carefully explain to Jack–without sending the little Nephilim into tears or a tantrum–why getting a dog at the moment just wasn't in the cards, he was able to finally reassure Jack (who thankfully only got a little teary eyed) that he would talk with Sam about the possibility of getting him one for his third birthday. Knowing the younger Winchester, he would definitely say 'yes' to getting a dog (any day of the year). Even though Dean knew he would still be on the fence about the whole thing, he also knew that he would evidently give in when the time came. It wasn't exactly easy to say 'no' when two sets of almost identical puppy dog eyes were boring into your soul.

"Papa, can we play a game?" Jack asked, a slight pout still on his face as he stood to Dean's right, arms wrapped around his stuffed animals, looking all like the two year old he really was. It was an adorable sight, making Dean wish Sam or Rowena were there to snap a picture in secret.

"Yeah, kiddo, we sure can." Dean rinsed off the plate in his hands, then placed it on the dish rack beside the sink to dry. "So, what kinda game did you have in mind?" He asked with a smile, turning around to face the little Nephilim.

"Uhhh–mmmm... oh, I knows! Can we play 'Simon Says'?"

"Definitely, bud. Where would you like to play it at?"

"My lil' room, p'ease?"

"Sounds good to me, kiddo."

Jack skipped excitedly alongside Dean as they began making their way out of the kitchen. But just as they reached the library's entrance, a muffled ringtone of "Stiff Upper Lip" began playing, making the pair stop in their tracks. Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Seeing the word 'Sam' across the top of the bright, white screen made him feel a mixture of relief and worry.

"Hey, bud, I have to take this real quick. Why don't you go on ahead and I'll be right there, okay?" He said, putting on a cheerful smile so the kid wouldn't get the wrong idea.

" 'Kay, papa–but hurry, p'ease!"

Dean waits till the kid–excited bounce still in his step–disappears behind the wall before answering his phone.

"Hey, how's everything going? You alright?"

"_Everything's fine, Mr. Hen, I promise._"

" 'Mr. Hen'?"

"_A new name I came up for you. You're always such a 'mother hen' whenever me or Jack get sick or hurt, so I thought I'd shorten it into a nickname._"

"Shouldn't it be 'Mrs.' then, instead of 'Mr.'?"

"_So you'd be okay with me calling you 'Mrs. Hen', instead_?" Dean could just _hear _the smirk in his little-shit-of-a-brother's voice.

"Har-har. Call me whatever you want, nerd-boy, but at least _I _can go five minutes without hacking a lung out."

"_At the moment you can, but after that kiss from earlier... well, you may not have much time left in the land of the healthy for much longer, big bro._" Sam chuckled slightly, admitting a few harsh, muffled coughs after.

"Easy there, Samscrotch, you don't actually wanna end up hacking out something important, now."

Dean gave the other man a few seconds for the coughing fit to ease up, before he asked, "So what did the doctor have to say?"

"_He said it's just a chest cold, so he prescribed me some cough medicine and something to help with the chest congestion, and said that really all I can do is rest and keep warm till it runs its course. But see? I told you it wasn't anything too bad to worry about, babe. I'll be just fine in a few days."_

"I know, I know. I was being paranoid, like usual. I know I gotta work on not getting worked up over the small things, but it's not easy. I mean, I have spent my entire life worrying about you."

"I understand that, Dean, I really do. I don't think you're paranoid, whatsoever. And I know I tease you about being a mother hen, but at the end of the day I know it's only because you're so protective and caring, and that's something I would never want you to stop being. Those are two of the reasons why I love you, after all."

Dean rolled his eyes, lips turning up into a wide, lovestruck smile (which he was thankful Sam couldn't see). "You're a giant sap, you know that?"

"_I know, but you love it._" Dean could hear (and picture) the smile in his little brother's voice. Which also meant that Sam most likely could hear his, too. Oh well, nothing he could do about that (it's not like he wanted to, anyway).

"Yeah, yeah, you romantic nerd. So, you heading home now?"

A sigh resonated through the phone. "_Unfortunately, not yet. It was beyond packed today, so even with an appointment it was almost forty minutes before __I__ was called into a room. Add the time it took for me to actually _see _the doctor and get my diagnoses, that's about an hour stuck in a place filled to the brim with many, _many _sick people__. I'm just about to start heading to the __store__ now, so __I__ won't be back until a little later._"

"Damn, I'm sorry, Sam. I really wish there was something I could do to help your day be less crappy, right now."

"_Going __home__ to you and Jack this evening will be more than enough to __make my long, crappy day __better. How's he doing, by the way?_"

"He's good, woke up little, just like we expected he would. Though, he didn't exactly wake up in the most pleasant of ways–"

"_What?! What do you mean? Is he okay? Was it another night terror?_" The younger Winchester frantically asked, concern heavy in his tone.

"Whoa, whoa there, Sammy. Everything's okay. Like I said, Jack is good, he isn't hurt or sick or anything, I promise. When he woke up this afternoon he had a small fall outta bed–and before you ask–no, he's not concussed and there wasn't any blood, either. Kid just has a small bump on the back of his head, babe, nothing that won't stay for more than another day or so."

And he called Dean a mother hen. Well, takes one to know one, he guessed.

The other man let out sigh of relief, causing him to break out into another fit of coughing, thankfully this one much less intense. After clearing his throat, Sam said, "_That's a relief, __I'm glad he's okay. I'm sure the poor baby must've been so scared, though_."

"He was, but papa made it better."

"_You always do, like the amazing papa you are."_

"You're a pretty amazing daddy yourself, ya know. Honestly don't know what me and our kid would do without you, Sam. Ugh, great. Now _I'm _turning into a sap."

Sam snickered. "_I have to get going now, but I'll text you when I'm on my way home._"

"Sounds good, babe. Talk to ya later."

"_Talk to you later, dear. Oh, and tell Jack I said 'hi' and that I'll be home as soon as I can._"

"Will do, Sammy."

Dean pressed the 'end call' button and slipped the phone back into his pocket, letting out a deep sigh of relief. Now that he heard from his brother, the heavy weight of worry he'd been feeling throughout the day finally lifted from his chest. He would still need to keep a close eye on the other man's cold symptoms for the next few days, just to make sure his chest cold didn't turn into something more serious. He wouldn't allow his mind to wonder into any bad case scenarios, though. All that mattered was that Sam was doing okay and would soon have medicine (and would hopefully be home in time for a nice, warm dinner) that would at least make his recovery slightly less miserable. Right now, he was going to go and spend the rest of the day with their son.


	3. Anything For His Baby Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuteness, comfort, and bedtime stories ensue in the conclusion of Jack's day with his amazing papa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, ya'll!!! I hope you guys had a fantastic and safe New Years Eve, may this new year bless us all with happiness and good fortune!! I'm so sorry it took me forever to get this last chapter out, but DAMN it's been a rough few months for me lol. So this is actually gonna be the last fic of this series until February, I just really need a break, or else I feel like my brain will turn to mush lmao. So I hope this chapter was worth the wait, because I know I'm pretty damn proud with how it turned out. It was a pain in my ass, but I'd say it was pretty damn worth it. I'm pretty high on booze rn so sorry if I seem weird or misspell anything in this note lol. Anyway, I hope ya'll enjoy and I'll see you next month! ^ ^

Walking into Jack's nursery, Dean saw Jack sitting at his white and green play table with a wooden puzzle of a colorful fish laid out in front of him, sucking on his pacifier as he put it together.

"Hey, baby."

Jack's head shot up, smiling when he saw the older Winchester. "Papa!" He stood up and ran over to Dean. "Wha' ta'y sh'o 'ong?"

Dean lightly chuckled. "Sorry, kiddo, I was on the phone with daddy and lost track of time."

"Is da'ee gonna be 'ome soon?"

"He's gonna try to be, bud. He just barely left the doctor's a few minutes ago and still needs to go run those errands, so it still might be awhile before he's home. But he told me to tell you he says 'hi', and that he will do his very best to be back as soon as possible."

The little Nephilim's face fell a little at the news. "Oh..."

"I know you miss him, baby, but time will go by quick and he'll be home before either of us know it," Dean replied in a gentle, reassuring tone, before pulling the boy into a hug and running a hand up and down his back.

Jack wrapped his arms around the man's middle, nuzzling his face against Dean's shoulder. "I knows... jus' 'ard," he mumbled.

At this point, it was a well known fact between Dean and Sam (and Rowena) that the little Nephilim always had a difficult time when one or both Winchesters were away from the bunker when he was in his little space. But after everything that happened with Lucifer, apocalypse world and the other Michael, nobody can blame the poor kid for having a case of separation anxiety whenever one or both his parents were away for a long period of time.

"I know, kiddo. You still wanna play 'Simon says'?"

The little Nephilim shook his head. "Nuh-uh."

"That's okay, bud, we can do something else."

" 'Ike wha', papa?"

"How 'bout we make something special to give daddy for when he comes home, hm? That sound good, little man?"

Jack pulled back enough to look up at Dean. "C'n we 'ake 'im some'ing outta p'ay 'oh?"

" 'Course we can, kiddo. Let's grab your stuffies and all your play doh gear and head back to the library."

\\\\\\\

"Phew! I forgot how many play doh sets you have, kiddo," Dean said as he set down four more play doh containers, along with several little animal, bug and insect molds.

The table now had an assortment of many colorful molds, containers, and other shape making contraptions to choose from.

"So, whatcha thinking of making daddy, sweetheart?" Dean asked with a smile, taking a seat next to Jack–who was currently pulling out a lump of red clay from its container.

"M'gonna 'ake all f'ree of us t'gether w'it the 'pala," the little Nephilim replied, eyes and hands intently focused on ripping away a piece of the red clay.

"That sounds really awesome, baby. Daddy's gonna love that. You want help with anything?"

"Mhm!" Jack pushed the black and grey clay over to Dean. " 'Ou c'n 'ake the 'pala and–" he pushed another clump of clay (this one a dark green) over–"The g'ound," the little boy responded with a grin.

"Can do, kiddo." 

The two worked together at building the mini play doh figures. They rolled, cut and tore, and connected all the colorful clay pieces together until they were formed into three familiar looking people and one very familiar looking black car.

"Done! Wha'cha f'ink, papa?" Jack asked excitedly as he turned his head to look at Dean.

Two of the figures stood tall–though, one stood about an inch or two shorter than the other–while the figure that stood in the middle of them was the smallest of the two; the tallest one had long brown hair, a wide smiling face, and a red and black–plaid resembling–shirt with dark blue pants. The shorter one had short and spikey yellow hair, with an identical wide smile on its face, and a green and black shirt with another dark blue set of pants. And the smallest one also had short and yellow hair–just not spikey or as short as the figure to its left–accompanied by another wide smiling face, and a light blue shirt with white pants.

Dean was impressed. Most things made from play doh (whether made by a kid or adult) usually turned out looking like something straight out of a scorching hot oven, melted and malformed and barely recognizable as anything–take his own creation, it didn't even come close to looking like the real Baby (though, he still had to give it to himself, it at least looked pretty decent for someone who'd never had a knack for the arts). But Jack's miniature versions of them looked amazing! Maybe not Michelangelo amazing, but for someone who was currently in the mindset of a two year old, it was pretty damn amazing.

"I think they're amazing, sweetheart, you did an awesome job. I love them, and I know daddy's gonna really love them, too."

"F'ank 'ou! I c'n't wai' for da'ee t'see 'em!" Jack beamed, slightly bouncing in his seat.

"Now we just have to put them next to Baby, and our gift will officially be complete and ready to give to daddy when he gets home." Dean picked up the dark green slab of clay he rolled out and placed it beside the figures, then gingerly picked up the mini Impala and set it on top of the pseudo grass. "How's that, sweetheart? Everything look okay?"

"Mhm, the 'pala's boo'tiful! 'Ou did a grea' job, papa!"

Dean leaned over and gave the little boy's cheek a kiss, making him giggle in response. "Thank you, baby."

One by one, the little Nephilim picked up each of the clay figures and placed them on the dark green surface beside the mini Impala.

"Annnn', done!" The little Nephilim announced after placing the mini version of himself between the two taller figures.

"That looks perfect, baby."

"F'ank 'ooou!"

"So, whado'ya wanna do now, baby? We still have a couple hours left till it's time for dinner."

And speaking of dinner, Dean made a mental note to text Sam later to ask him what he would like to eat tonight. He would most likely want something hot, like soup, but it would still be good to get his brother's input before making the decision for him. The last thing he wanted to do was make him something he would just end up leaving completely untouched.

"C'n we watch Scooby-Doo?"

"Sure can, kiddo. Would you like to watch the series or one of the movies?"

"See'rees, p'ease."

"Sounds good to me, sweetheart. We can watch it on papa and daddy's bed, so we'll be more comfortable." Dean stood up from the chair. "But first, we need to put away all your play doh stuff."

"Awwww, bu' s'no'd gonna be fun." The little Nephilim pouted.

Dean chuckled at the boy's response. "I know, kiddo, cleaning up is never fun. It won't take us long though, I promise."

Jack let out a small resigned sigh." 'Kaaaay, papa."

The two set to work on putting the remaining play doh back into their containers, before gathering up as much as they could and hauling it back to the proper storage in the nursery's closet. After two more trips, everything was cleaned up and put away, and Dean and Jack were finally able to head to his and Sam's room for some relaxation and Scooby-Doo watch time.

\\\\\\\

The next two hours found Dean and his son binge watching the entire first season of (the original 1969, obviously) Scooby-Doo. Jack's head rested on Dean's chest, arms wrapped around the older Winchester as he lazily sucked on his pacifier, eyes staring intently at the screen of mystery solving teens and their talking dog. Both the boy's stuffed animals were propped up against him, facing the screen so they could "watch", too.

Seeing that there was probably about ten minutes left until the episode came to an end, and it would soon be time to get started on dinner, Dean picked up his cell from the nightstand and sent Sam a text.

**(****Dean) — **'**Hey, what do you feel like having for dinner?**'

Only a couple minutes passed before Sam texted back.

**(Sam) — **'**I'm** **honestly not all that hungry, but I'll be good with just a bowl of Campbells chicken soup and a nice hot cup of tea.**'

**(Dean) — **'**Sounds good. I'll get all that made for you when come home then. How's the shopping going by the way?**'

**(Sam) — **'**Not great. It took me almost 10 mins just to find a parking at the store I'm at now. I'm currently standing in line with 2 people in front who have baskets filled to the top but I'm stuck in this one because the other lines are even longer. To top it off I still have to make one last stop after this to pick up my prescriptions, would've done it right after leaving the doc's but the receptionist let me know the pharmacy wouldn't have them ready for a few hours. Today has been awful.**'

Dean winced. This just really wasn't his little brother's day.

**(Dean) — **'**I'm sorry your day's been awful, baby. Once you're home we'll get you settled in bed with your soup and tea, you'll take your meds, then if you're up for it we'll even watch a couple episodes of that** **show about the queen of England's life or whatever that you like so much before we go to bed. Oh and just an fyi, you won't be getting out of bed for anything but bathroom breaks and showers until that cough is 100% done and gone.**'

A couple more minutes passed before the next response sent out a short vibration and lit up the cell screen.

**(Sam) — **'**For once, there's no complaints here. Not doing anything sounds pretty amazing right now. And the show is called "The Crown" btw.**'

**(Dean) — **'**Good, then it's settled. I'll let you get on with the rest of your stuff now, I've gotta get started on our kid's dinner right now anyway. Talk to ya later, Sammy.**'

Just as the older Winchester was about to stick the phone into his pocket, another text came through.

**(Sam) — **'**Our son better not be the only one eating his dinner this evening, Dean. I better not come home and find out you still haven't eaten anything since lunch****, or else I'll lock up the apple caramel drizzle pie ****I**** have in the basket somewhere you can't find it and give it to Jody next time we see her.**'

Damn. He could almost hear Sam's threatening and disapproving voice through the text, and see him standing in line staring down at his phone with a frown and furrowed brows.

Dean quickly sent back a reply. No way was he about to royally screw himself out of a delicious pie.

**(Dean) — **'**Alright alright! ****I promise I'll eat dinner too, just leave the pie outta this! Please.'**

**(Sam) — **'**I knew you'd see things my way. Love you and see you later! xoxo**'

Dean shook his head as he read the message. He had to give it him, his little brother really knew how to play dirty and get away with it flawlessly.

A poke to his stomach brought Dean's attention back to the little Nephilim attached to his side. "What is it, baby?" He asked, stuffing the phone into his pocket.

" 'Is o'ber."

Dean looked over to the now black and void laptop screen. "Well, it's almost time for dinner anyway," he said, shutting the laptop close.

"Aw, 'kaaaay. Wha'er we 'aving, papa?"

Dean breathed a chuckle at the boy's pouty expression. "We can always watch more after dinner, kiddo. And I was thinkin' we could have some of that leftover grilled chicken from the other night with some BBQ sauce, and a few of those mini potatoes on the side, too. How does that sound?"

"Mhm! Soun's yummy!" Jack replies enthusiastically, pout vanishing.

"C'mon then, sweetheart, let's go have our yummy dinner."

\\\\\\\

Dinner went by quickly, and a lot better than Dean expected. Dean thought once Jack realized Sam wouldn't be having dinner with them tonight, that he'd get upset and refuse to eat like other times when his brother or him were out past dinner time, but the kid actually ate every single bite on his plate without any complaint (granted, at a slightly more leisurely pace than how he usually ate). It broke his heart seeing his kid be affected this way whenever one or both his parents were absent, but he knew there wasn't much they could do besides reassure, comfort and distract the kid, as well as continue to hope that one day Jack's fears would be permanently put to rest.

While they ate, Dean had done his best to keep the little Nephilim from dwelling on the other Winchester's absence. He talked with him about fun and simple topics, ranging from toys and animals, to the little boy's favorite TV shows and movies. It seemed to do the trick, kept the kid focused on babbling to Dean throughout most of dinner.

After the plates and silverware were cleaned and put out to air dry, Dean and Jack went back to the two older Winchesters' bedroom, where they resumed their positions on the bed with Jack in charge of the TV remote. Jack had decided he wanted to watch another movie instead of more Scooby-Doo. The little Nephilim scrolled through the various movie choices on the 'Children and Family' section of Netflix, analyzing each animated movie he came across carefully, before deciding on 'Balto' (not surprising the kid would choose another dog oriented film). It was another movie Dean was seeing for the first time, and he had to say, for someone like him who wasn't all that into animated movies (and hadn't been since he was a kid himself), this one was pretty freaking amazing. That Balto was a pretty badass wolf-dog (now that was a dog he wouldn't mind having as a pet).

The movie ended and the credits began just a little after 8:00pm, just in time to start getting Jack ready for bed.

"Okay, kiddo, it's time to get ready for bed," Dean said as he exited out of Netflix and turned off the TV, tossing the remote near the end of the bed.

Jack let out a small whine. "Do I 'ave to?"

"Sure do, bud. You know the rules, in bed by eight or around eight-thirty the latest."

Jack let his pacifier fall from his mouth and hang off the clip. "But daddy is'n home yet. I wanna be up so we can give him the pre'sen we made, can't I jus' stay up till he comes, p'ease?" He looked at Dean with wide, shimmering eyes.

Dean shook his head. "Nope, the puppy dog eyes aren't gonna work on me tonight, sweetheart." The older Winchester cupped one side of Jack's (heavily pouting) face, running his free hand through the boy's hair. "I promise that as soon as you get up tomorrow we'll give it to him, baby. How 'bout tonight I read you _thre_e bedtime stories–short ones, might I add–instead of just one? It would mean there'd be extra voices you'd get to hear me do, and I know how much you get a kick outta my European accents. So does that sound like a good enough comprise, kiddo?"

Jack bit the corner of his lip and gave Dean a small nod. "Yeah, okay, papa."

Dean stood up from the bed and gathered the little Nephilim into his arms, rubbing a hand up and down his back as he wrapped his arms around Dean's neck. Hopefully once the boy got into his pajamas and was settled in his crib with the older Winchester reading to him, he'd feel more calm and relaxed, and be able to fall asleep without any trouble.

"Alright, baby, let's get you into some jammies. Are you gonna need a new diaper, too, sweetheart?" Dean asked as he began the walk to Jack's nursery.

"Ummm... mhm, a lil' wet," Jack replied, slightly fidgeting as he traced the collar of Dean's shirt with a finger.

Dean pat the little Nephilim's back affectionately. "No worries, baby boy, we'll get you nice and cleaned up," he reassured.

It was rare for Jack to actually use his diapers (given how he was still half angel and didn't have many needs the way humans did), but when he did it usually wasn't anything more than a bit of pee. Something both older Winchesters took notice of as the kid's headspace got older, though, was that he got embarrassed whenever he did wet his diaper (something he never showed when he was in his one year old or infant headspace). But Dean could understand that as the kid grew older things related to bathroom needs would be a bit of a tough thing to deal with (especially given the fact that the boy never needed to use the bathroom at all when he was in his big headspace, but only ever did when he was little. Dean wouldn't be surprised if it was even beginning to feel a little strange and unnerving to the poor kid when he used his diaper while in little space). It was just another thing that would take time for the boy to overcome, but it was nothing that a little kind and gentle reassuring from both his parents couldn't help him out in overcoming it.

When they arrived to the nursery Dean laid Jack down on the changing table. He started stripping away the little Nephilim's outfit, leaving the boy in only his (very lightly) wet diaper, for just a moment. Before the boy could become too embarrassed and shy, the older Winchester quickly got to work on getting him out of his current diaper and into a new one. Once Dean got Jack cleaned up and put into a fresh diaper, he rooted through the dresser, and like with the pacifiers earlier, he picked out two different sets of pajamas; both of them two piece long-sleeves, but differently colored with different designs decorating them.

"Dinos or plaid, baby?"

Jack looked back and forth between the two, for a moment. "Plaid, p'ease," he decided.

"Looks like you and Winchester are gonna be matching buddies tonight." Dean smiled, turning back to the dresser to put away the dinosaur printed pajama set.

All of a sudden, he hears Jack gasp, and turns around to see him sitting up on the changing table with wide eyes.

"I lefts Winchester an' Spikey on you's an' daddy's bed!"

"It's alright, sweetheart, I'll go grab them after we get your teeth brushed, 'kay?"

The little Nephilim relaxed and nodded his head, his lips turning up into a tiny smile. "Okay, papa."

\\\\\\\

As soon as Dean got Jack dressed in his pajamas, he took the boy to the bathroom to brush his teeth. There he had the little Nephilim take a seat on top of the closed toilet seat, then took the kid's light and dark green toothbrush into hand and squeezed a dollop of child safe (strawberry flavored) toothpaste onto it. He slightly ran it under the water, before slipping it into the boy's mouth, and gently and carefully began to brush his teeth. After Dean got through cleaning Jack's teeth and the boy rinsed his mouth out with the plastic cup of water Dean handed him, the older Winchester led the kid back to his nursery where he told him to go ahead and pick out the three (_short_) stories he wanted him to read tonight, while Dean went off to get his stuffed friends.

Once the stuffed toys were retrieved, Dean made his way back to the nursery. Jack stood by his crib, hands holding three smallish childrens' books, but he let them drop to the floor when he saw the stuffed hedgehog and bear in Dean's arms, and ran over to take them into his own.

"Thank you, papa!" Jack exclaimed, squeezing his stuffed toys tightly to his chest and grinning widely at the older Winchester.

Dean grinned back. "No problem, baby boy." He ruffled the little boy's hair. "Now, let's get you into bed, sweetheart."

Once the little Nephilim was in his crib, cozy and warm under his soft blankets, and both stuffed animals secured close on either side of him, Dean pulled over one of the animal shaped chairs from the play table in the corner of the room and sat down with the books in his lap.

"Alrighty, let's see what we have here," Dean murmured to himself, taking a look at each title and cover.

One book had a smiling green worm on the cover, and another one had a gangly, yellow and brown spotted giraffe on its cover. Those two he didn't remember reading to Jack before, so this would be pretty fun, getting to come up with voices for the new characters and all that. He did recognize the book underneath the first two, though; it was a Dr. Seuss book with a smiling red fox wearing two blue socks on his front paws on the cover, and the title read 'Fox in Socks'. This was... well, not the easiest book to read. What with all it's ridiculous tongue-twisters and such. But he's done it before, and he can certainly do it again (hopefully with less spit flying out of his mouth this time, though).

"Which story do you want first, kiddo?" He asked, silently hoping his son would pick the book about the worm or giraffe first.

"Ummm, the fox!"

Damn, he should've known not to be optimistic about reading one of the other ones first. Anything for his baby boy, though.

"You got it, baby boy," Dean said, forcing an enthusiastic smile onto his face.

Just as Dean opened the dreaded book and was about to read out the first sentence (or rhyme, he guessed he should say. Damn Dr. Seuss and his freaking storybooks of constant, nonstop rhyming), Jack spoke up again.

"I still really wanna see daddy b'fore I sleep, papa. I miss him."

Dean put the (dreaded) book back down onto his lap, and looked into his son's eyes (which were starting to look suspiciously wet). "I know you do, baby. He really wanted see you before you went to sleep, too, and I know he's most definitely missing you just as much, as we speak." Dean reached through the bars of the crib and brushed a strand of hair out of the little boy's face (he would be needing a trim soon, or else his hair was gonna start looking like his daddy's. Not that any of them would probably mind all that much, honestly. It'd actually be kinda cute). "But I swear to you, baby boy, you _will_ get to see him in the morning." He gave the boy a warm, gentle smile as he ran his hand through his silky hair.

"You pinkie promise?" Jack asked tentatively, sticking out his left pinkie finger.

"Yup, I pinkie prom–"

"You hafta Pinkie _Pie _promise, papa. It's the most 'portant kinda promise ever," the little Nephilim explained, a serious look on his face that only managed to make him look adorable more than anything else.

Lord. Well, like he said, anything for his baby boy.

The older Winchester wrapped his pinkie around his kid's, internally sighing in defeat. "Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye," he recited the sugar high, pink pony's words, while also doing the hand gestures that went along with it.

Doing that always makes him feel silly and way less macho, but like every time, the bright smile that lights up Jack's face–like now–always makes it all worth it. Christ, he really was a sap. The things family and old age did to you, man.

"Hey, if daddy isn't feeling too sick tomorrow afternoon, after we have lunch maybe the three of us can watch a movie or two. How does that sound, sweetheart?"

If even possible, Jack's smile got wider. "Mhm! That sounds _really_ good, papa!"

Dean chuckled fondly at his kid's renewed cheerfulness, happy to see him really smiling again. "Okay, let's get to reading now, shall we?"

After about maybe twenty or so minutes (the first fifteen having been taken up by tongue-twisters that made the older Winchester want to rip his hair out, but that made his son break out into fits of giggles at his many–_many__–_failed attempts at trying to say them correctly) and two stories later, Jack was knocked out before Dean could even read out the first sentence about the green worm–which Dean had already figured would happen. It had been a long day, after all. A good one, but long nonetheless. And after their taxing hunt, Dean was pretty positive that getting Jack to sleep these next few nights wasn't going to be a difficult task, whatsoever.

Dean quietly got up and put the chair back at the table, then put the storybooks back in the white, sticker plastered bookshelf that stood near the table. He walked back to the crib, leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on the little Nephilim's forehead, then carefully popped the boy's pink pacifier back into his mouth, watching with a soft smile on his face as the boy–even while asleep–right away began giving the soother tiny, adorable sucks.

Dean walked to the door and turned off the room light, but not before remembering to flick on the little happy faced, white cloud night light on the little Nephilim's dresser, as well as turn on the baby monitor that sat next to it. He stood in the doorway, for a moment, watching the rise and fall of the little boy's chest like it was the most interesting and wonderful thing in the world. Which to him, a parent, it most certainly was.

"Sweet dreams, baby boy," Dean softly whispered, closing the door behind him with a quiet, almost inaudible click.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment *cough*theygivemelifeandmotivation*cough* and/or kudos if you enjoyed, and may you have a great day or night! ^_^


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